Always Be There
by Snotwing
Summary: Tony screws up. He hasn't quite figured out exactly what he did wrong, he just knows that Ziva is beyond furious at him. Can his NOT being a jerk for once be a legitimate reason for Ziva's crankiness? Slight Tiva. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any NCIS characters. I didn't even really come up with the plot - not that I would make money off of it even if I did.

**A/N:** ...I'm sorry! You guys can shoot me if you want. So, I'll get my _four_ stories updated as soon as possible. Remember to review the one you like the best (even if it hasn't been updated recently).

Always Be there

** * ** * ** * **

"Tony! What's the matter with you?" McGee hissed from the safety of his own desk.

Tony rolled his eyes in annoyance – as if it wasn't perfectly obvious what he was doing. He sneered a little for good measure and went right back to rooting through Ziva's desk.

"Tony! I really, really think this is a bad idea. Ziva will _kill_ you when she finds out!"

"You mean _if_ she finds out," Tony corrected immediately. He had no intention of getting caught. Well, he wasn't suicidal! "She won't be back for a while."

"Like that matters. Ziva always knows," came the predictable sullen response. Tony ignored him – McGee was just upset because he knew Ziva would blame him as much as Tony _if_ she found out. Which she wouldn't… maybe.

So, it was a little risky, but Ziva was hiding something from him. For the past two Wednesdays Ziva had taken an extended lunch break. That wouldn't be too strange in and of itself, but for the fact that she was being so very secretive about it. What's more, every time she came back from one of her long lunches she seemed tired and slightly sore. Usually her makeup was light and tasteful – just enough to flatter her natural beauty without making her look "painted". Wednesdays, though, she returned to work with traces of heavy makeup on her face and glitter clinging to her clothes.

Glitter was so not Ziva.

Sure enough, today, Wednesday, she had taken another extended lunch. Again, she left him with no clue where she was going. Tony smirked to himself. Ziva should know better than that – leaving him in the dark was tantamount to telling him all her secrets, only without actually _saying_ anything. Whatever she didn't want him to know, he was determined to uncover.

"To-nee!" McGee was whining. Rummaging through the top drawer, Tony scowled. There was nothing _personal_ in it. Well, nothing personal unless one counted the dulled letter opener and stacks of enthusiastically "doctored" erasers. Still ignoring McGee, he abandoned the top drawer and savagely yanked the next one open.

_Aha! That's more like it_. Behind some very tidy manila files, Ziva had a small hoard of energy bars and even a fun sized bag of cheese puffs. Who would have thought Ziva liked cheese puffs? A few bits of paper were buried underneath the foodstuffs. He fished them out and quickly sorted through them. Most were lunch receipts, probably kept for the sole purpose of keeping track of what the team – okay, mostly Tony – owed her for lunches when it was her turn to go out.

One battered slip of paper stood out. It was a yellow school flyer announcing a talent show. Tony frowned as he read through some of the promised acts: flame swallower, stunning rendition of Moonlight Sonata, ventriloquists, belly dancing, and more.

Not really knowing why, Tony memorized the date, time, and place of the talent show. Why would Ziva have a school flyer in her drawer? He frowned. He was absolutely no closer to an answer than he had been _before_ going through her stuff.

A gruff cough startled him out of his thoughts, and Tony looked up to see McGee frantically motioning towards the elevator. He glowered when the motions kept coming – sheesh he _could_ take a hint.

Hastily, he shoved everything back into the drawer and moved from Ziva's desk just as a certain ex-assassin walked carefully (as opposed to strolling easily or stalking suspiciously) into the bullpen.

Tony plastered on his cheesiest grin and pretended to be pretending _not_ to be fiddling with Ziva's stapler. She hated it when he borrowed her stuff without asking. Sure enough, the Israeli narrowed her painted eyes angrily.

"Tony, how many times must I tell you that I will kill you with the stapler if you take it from my desk?" she threatened.

"Um" DiNozzo gulped, making a big show of nervous guilt. If he could keep her focused on the stapler, she would never notice his earlier "investigating".

Glaring, the Mossad officer snatched her property from Tony's fidgeting hands. Across the room, Agent McGee gaped in shock until Tony sent a sharp look his way.

** * * ** * * ** * * **

The rest of the day passed as usual. McGee teased Tony about his 'obsession' with Ziva's Mysterious Wednesday Lunches, Tony pestered Ziva for details about said lunches, and Ziva threatened them both with office supplies. Gibbs just glared at everybody.

At the end of the day, Tony was, as usual, the last one to leave. Ostentatiously, he stayed later because it took him longer to finish his reports. Truthfully, however, he preferred to work alone, after everyone had left. Then it was easy for him to lose himself in the mindless repetition that was paperwork. Also, he took care of all the 'special duties' that came with being Gibbs' second in command.

Tony doubted that either Ziva or McGee realized that he had the extra work – or that he got paid more than they did. Of course, Gibbs knew, but Tony was confident he would never tell anybody. Sometimes, more than others, that made him a little sad.

He'd grown up, all his life, having to pretend to be somebody he wasn't. His part had been the cold, proper DiNozzo son, while he was still living at home. After he'd been disowned and sent to military school, he had pretended to be the perfect little soldier – part of him hoping that if he followed the ridged rules well enough, his dad would take him back. In college he had found the persona that came easiest to him.

Maybe it was because it was _closest_ to the truth. He _was_ a movie fanatic, he _did_ enjoy the dating game, he _liked_ having lots of friends, and he really _did_ have a big mouth and irreverent sense of humor. But there were times when it almost wasn't enough. He didn't know _why_ he still pretended – maybe it was because he didn't _know_ how to be himself.

It really got to him, though, when his friends misjudged him because of the mask. When they mistook him for shallow or juvenile or unintelligent, he felt like screaming, but then could do nothing more than hate himself. It was his own fault that nobody could really see who he was.

And it was his own fault that his friends wouldn't trust him with their secrets.

With a sigh, he glanced over at Ziva's desk. He knew he shouldn't be 'upset' that Ziva wouldn't tell him what was going on, but he was. Tony was positive that the only reason she hadn't told McGee or Abby or Ducky was because she was afraid he would find out.

After all, there is very little someone might do – or say – just to get rid of the annoyance that is Tony.

"DiNozzo!"

Tony jerked. A glance at his computer screen told him that he'd been brooding for a lot longer than he thought. He turned a sheepish expression up at his boss.

"Hey, Boss, I thought you left by now."

"Gymn." Gibbs huffed gruffly. Tony squinted. Was something bothering the boss? He was being a little brusque, even for himself. "You going?"

"Huh?" It would surprise anyone else, even Ducky, to realize just how well Tony and Gibbs understood each other. Usually they communicated more with pointed looks and body language than actual words. Sometimes it was easier to say what you meant when you didn't actually have to _say_ it.

Gibbs answered his question by tilting his head in the direction of Ziva's desk. _What? Oh, right._

Tony didn't even ask how Gibbs knew about the talent show. Or how he knew that Tony knew. Tony wondered if Ziva knew that Gibbs knew. Did Gibbs know whether Ziva knew he knew or not?

_Smack!_

Apparently, Gibbs saw some sign that DiNozzo was over thinking things. Rubbing his head, Tony grinned wryly.

"Thanks, Boss." He frowned. Why would Gibbs ask if he was going to attend the talent show? "You think I should go, Boss?"

Gibbs' brow wrinkled slightly – it was a look that Tony had only seen a few times. It was Gibbs' way of expressing sorrow or regret. Without responding, his Boss turned and left.

Tony sighed to himself. The talent show wasn't till Friday – he had a while to decide whether or not he wanted to go. In the meantime, he had plenty of paperwork to finish.

** * * ** * * ** * * **

Ziva scanned the gathering crowd with slowly building angst. She was not nervous about the performance – she had done this on stage a dozen of times. In fact she was not nervous _at all. _Her girls were excellently trained, and all of them very excited about tonight.

No, she was _concerned_ about the audience – one person in particular. A person who _should_ be standing near the front, waving and hooting like an imbecile. All was silent on the front, however.

That was a good thing, right?

She _had_ gone to extraordinary heights to make sure that Tony never knew about the talent show. She did not want him here.

He would tease her for months if he knew.

"Um, Ziva?"

She realized she was scowling. Forcing herself to smile confidently, she looked back at the five girls she had been coaching. Susan was her neighbors' niece – she had moved in with them a few weeks ago after her parents were killed in a car accident. Ziva had empathized with the grieving teen and started spending time with her.

When Susan had asked her to help her and her friends prepare for their talent show, she had agreed without hesitation.

The hesitation had come later, after they had decided on their act. She would shoot herself if Tony ever found out. No, she would shoot _Tony_ if Tony ever found out.

And he had not.

Ziva peered out at the audience again – again seeing no sign of Tony. If this is what she wanted, why did she feel disappointed? It was not like it would mean anything if he saw her. It would just make her life more difficult (and Tony's mere presence more unbearable) than usual.

The announcer called out her group's name. Straightening up, she tossed an encouraging look at the five teenage girls clustered behind her as she led the way on stage.

** * ** * ** * **

Tony slouched against a gloomy corner in the large high school auditorium. So far there had been only a few entertaining acts. One student had actually done a very good Frank Sinatra impression. Tony was only mildly creeped out by the fact that that 'student' had been a fifteen year-old girl.

He had yet to spot Ziva in the crowd, but then, for some reason, he hadn't really expected to see her in the crowd. Tony almost wished he'd brought a friend with him; at least making fun of the various acts would keep him from being gloomy and depressed.

The strange, warbling notes of a Middle Eastern tune floated out from the poorly placed speakers. Glancing back up at the stage, Tony noticed six elaborately costumed girls – er, women? – _belly dancing._

Well, the flyer _had_ promised a belly dancing act.

What the fly had _not_ said, however, was that the _belly dancing_ act just so happened to be _Officer Ziva David's_ act. He smirked to himself.

Now he supposed he understood why Ziva would want to hide her Wednesday lunches from him, especially since she had been using those for rehearsals. He knew she had by the way the heavy makeup she wore on stage matched the traces and glitter she always bore after a Wednesday Lunch.

He grinned. Ziva was actually very, very good at this. She was also a good teacher, it seemed. Tony watched as the six dancers did a belly roll in unison.

That would explain the 'soreness' she had tried (with marginal success) to disguise after every practice. Tony could only imagine how taxing the maneuver would be for someone who didn't do it every day.

Honestly, he was glad that Ziva's secret was so harmless. It was partly that relief that made him decide not to tease Ziva about her – er, special skill. Still unable to stop grinning, he leaned back to _enjoy_ the rest of the act.

Ziva twirled around with the other five girls, moving in perfect time with the exotic music. Spangles and glitter sparkled under the bright stage lights. Tony recognized the costumes as traditional Turkish style – although he would never admit to anyone that he knew the difference. The flowing filmy skirts swished as the dancers sashayed their hips. Transparent layers of silky cloth artfully balanced sinuous suggestion and appropriate (for high school girls) modesty. Ziva had really out done herself.

As the act ended, Tony carefully made his way to the nearest exit. He was going exercise _discretion_, but Ziva didn't need to know that.

Hell, if she knew she wouldn't believe him – or worse, she wouldn't give him the chance _to_ do the right thing.

He hung his head slightly as he made his way through the parking lot. Sometimes he wished he was brave enough to be himself while other people _were_ watching – not like this, not behind their backs.

** * ** * ** * **

After the talent show – naturally her group won – Ziva and her crew celebrated. Since she was the only member over twenty-one, they had gone to DairyQueen for ice cream. Also, being the responsible adult, she had promised to make sure everyone got home safely. Although, if any of the parents had ever seen her drive, they might elected a different chauffer. So far, she had dropped everyone off but Susan.

"Everything okay, Ziva?"

Susan – who was far too perceptive for her own good. Hmpft.

"I am fine, Suz. Why do you ask?" Ziva was able to glance over at her passenger while they waited for a light to turn green.

The teenager tilted her blonde head to one side. Ziva smiled slightly – even though she was annoyed that Susan did not believe her, she was proud that she could not fool her.

"You just seem a little down in the dumps. Did that guy from work show up?" The Mossad officer had mentioned her concerns that Tony would _find out_, and asked Susan to help her be discrete. The girl had been extremely helpful, always bringing Ziva's costume and makeup to rehersals, reminding her to switch earrings and fix her hair bad the way it had been before practice. Together, they took great care that Tony would never know.

"No, Tony was not there." To her surprise, the words sounded – disappointed? Angry? Upset? Well, they were not what they were supposed to be, such as triumphant, satisfied, or even remotely pleased. Susan caught it, too. The light turned green at just that second, giving Ziva an excuse to avoid her young friend's curious/accusing/suspicious gaze.

"You don't seem very – ah, car! – pleased about that, Ziva. I thought him not knowing was the – hey, stay on the, ah! He wasn't _supposed_ to find out."

Ziva was driving like she was angry. Was she angry? Why would she be angry?

"Tony _always_ finds out." She grumbled to herself, _I do not know _how_, but he always finds out. Why did he not find out?_

Tony _was_ supposed to find out – just like he always did. And then she, Ziva, would get very angry at him for finding out. He would tease her and she would yell at him. That is the way it worked.

"Yes, he always finds out. I do not know how he finds out, but Tony always does. It is like he does not have anything better to do than elbow about in his co-workers' business!"

"Ah." Susan seemed slightly surprised by Ziva's outburst, but quickly recovered. Now she was looking at the Israeli with a knowing expression. Ziva felt apprehensive. "First of all, it's not elbow, it's _nose._ But I get it now. You like him – Ziva, car! Lamp!"

The car swerved wildly and Susan grabbed for what Tony always called the "Oh, shit" handle.

"I do _not_ like Tony. He is annoying and childish. He does not ever mind his own business. I do not even know why Gibbs puts up with him."

"Ok…" Susan smirked the way only a very mischievous teenage girl could. Ziva briefly wondered if she had ever smirked like that. "So, what do you think the annoying, childish, and nosy Special Agent was doing tonight instead of elbowing around in your business?"

Images of fine wine, white table cloths, candlelight, and young beautiful women flashed through Ziva's mind.

Then she saw red.

Susan was right – Tony blew her out tonight. Out? Stupid English. He deserted her for some other tramp! Partners did _not_ do that to one another.

Tony should have been there, at the talent show. He had not been there.

Ziva was very mad at Tony.

** * ** * ** * **

**A/N:** First off, this was written in response to a request by QuothTheRaven666 who asked for a "story about Tony finding out Ziva can belly-dance". The story is nearly complete, and I hope to have the other two chapters up soon.

Secondly, I've had a few people comment on the number of mistakes I make (sorry, ya'll) in my stories. I don't have the extra time to go over every single chapter with a fine-toothed comb, nor to go back and fix all of my mistakes. If anyone is interested in beta-ing my stories (as I write them) for me, please send me a private message. I will continue to post my stories in the mean time (even laden as they are with grammatical errors and spelling mistakes).

Also, thank you for reading and reviewing so far! I hope you enjoy my first stab at TIVA. Please read and review!


	2. Chapter 2

Always Be there

** * ** * ** * **

On Monday morning, Tony was fifteen minutes late to work. This time, he actually had a legitimate excuse, although he knew by now that he would still get a headslap. But the Boss would _know_ and it would be one of his approving, "atta-boy, Tony" headslaps.

Tony was only marginally concerned that he read so much into getting hit by his boss.

"DiNozzo!" Tony made himself wince. Ziva and McGee didn't know that some of the Boss's headslaps were encouraging, and he didn't want them to think he'd gone off the deep end.

"Sorry, Boss. Got stuck in traffic" Partly true. He'd stopped to help an elderly lady change a flat tire, but he knew that McGee and Ziva wouldn't believe that. He'd tell Gibbs what really happened later.

Gibbs glared at him.

Or, he could tell him sooner – that might be better.

"You're late tomorrow, DiNozzo, don't bother showing up at all!" Gibbs barked at him, while simultaneously giving him one of _those_ headslaps. Tony knew his boss would be waiting for him in the basement five minutes after he left for his first coffee break of the day.

"Gotcha, Boss."

It wasn't until after Tony settled down at his desk to pretend to pretend to work (he actually got quite a bit done that way, with no one buy Gibbs the wiser) that he realized Ziva was glaring at him. Actually, Ziva was glaring at him quite intensely.

_Oh, shit, did she see me?_

That would be very bad, if she did. Suddenly, he was quite thankful for the excuse to leave the bullpen as soon as Gibbs had. He'd leave under the pretense of visiting Abby and stall until Gibbs got back.

Absolutely. He was going to avoid the angry ninja-chick at all costs.

** * ** * ** * **

McGee was having a bad day. For once, it wasn't because of a case, or Gibbs, or even Tim himself doing something to piss somebody (usually Abby) off.

No, this time _he_ was having a bad day because _Tony_ pissed off _Ziva._ Why they dragged him into it, he didn't know. Tony had been using him as a kind of battle shield all afternoon. And then he had the audacity to say that he didn't know why Ziva was mad at him.

Tim sighed as he stared at the paperclip Ziva was brandishing at him. Tony had promised to buy him lunch for a week if he could get Ziva to admit why she suddenly wanted the older agent drawn and quartered.

"So, Ziva," he started warily, following the paperclip with his eyes. "What did Tony do this time?"

_Tony_ was safely down in Forensics and even Gibbs had escaped to MTAC. Tim would have been in autopsy, himself, if not for the promise of five free lunches.

"Oh-ho. This is good. Tony's sidepunch does not even know!"

"It's sidekick."

"What?"

Oops. He probably should not be correcting the angry woman's English.

"Nevermind. If this is about Tony going through your desk last Wednesday, I _told _him it was a bad idea. I told him you'd find out!"

Ziva's eyes narrowed. Honestly, the sudden exploration of Ziva's desk last Wednesday was the only offensive action McGee could think of. And, really, it wasn't that bad. Tony went through both their desks all the time – sure, Ziva usually got angry, but not homicidal.

"He went through my desk," Ziva hissed. It wasn't really a question.

McGee grimaced. Not the desk thing then. _Whoops._

"Ah – er, yeah, but it was last Wednesday and he didn't find anything. I mean, he just wanted to know what you did on your extended lunches." Maybe he could reason with her? "C'mon, Ziva, you had to know he was going to do it. The best way to make sure Tony finds out about something is to not tell him anything about it."

If possible, Ziva's eyes narrowed more. McGee didn't understand – Tony was nosy. That's just the way he was. Ziva knew this, and had dealt with it many times before. Sure, the nosiness was annoying, but never harmful. McGee couldn't believe that Tony had actually _hurt_ Ziva by trying to find out what she had been doing.

Before McGee could ask any more questions, Ziva turned and stalked off.

Apparently she was done chatting.

It was also apparent that McGee wouldn't be getting any of those 'free lunches'.

** * ** * ** * **

_He knew!_

If he was curious enough to go through her stuff, then he had to know. She did not know _how _exactly, but he had not asked her any questions since last week. DiNozzo did not just give up when the comings – er, goings? got rough.

_Tony_ _knew_ about the talent show – and he still had not come.

Somehow, that made his absence much, much worse.

It was Tuesday afternoon and she still had not had the chance to yell at Tony in private. He had been avoiding her like the plague. That meant he knew she knew he knew.

He had not gone to see her.

Tony always went, especially when he was not wanted. So why had he not gone?

Ziva was furious with Tony, but also with herself. Why did she even _care_ that he had not gone?

If Tony had been at the talent show, he would be tormenting her with lewd comments and inappropriate questions. She knew that he would be insufferable and she would be hard put not to throttle him.

She glared across the bullpen. There he was – sitting quietly and _still_ driving her insane. She finally got used to him, finally knew what to expect from him.

Then Tony changed the rules.

It had taken Ziva a while to realize that Tony's teased his _friends_. He did not tease his not-friends, he taunted them. There was a difference.

But now Tony was not teasing her, nor was he taunting her. Actually, he was avoiding her. It was like she did not exist for him.

And for some strange reason, Ziva knew she wanted to exist for Tony. She wanted him to tease her – especially about those stupid little things that he was not supposed to know about. It meant that he cared enough to elbow, er, nose around in her business instead of spending his evening with some skank.

Tony had stopped caring and Ziva would never, ever forgive him.

** * ** * ** * **

Tony sighed. It was late Tuesday evening and he and Gibbs were the only two still in the bullpen. They were both tired and cranky.

Both men knew they needed to talk – usually they took this kind of discussion to the privacy of Gibbs' basement. The bourbon usually helped, too.

Now, however, they both worked feverishly, hoping to burn off some of their frustration before one of them blew up.

Deep down, Tony knew it was his fault. He just didn't know _what_ he did. Ziva was absolutely murderous, and he was the main target. He'd had time to think about last Friday, though. He was positive that Ziva had not seen him in the audience, nor did he see anyone that might have recognized him. There was no way see could have seen his car in the parking lot – he'd arrived late and left early with just that in mind.

McGee had told him that she hadn't even known that he'd gone through her desk. He hadn't needed to go through her purse – not after Gibbs' clue about the flyer…

Gibbs' clue. Gibbs was the one that convinced him to go to the talent show in the first place. Tony looked up from his current form-filling activity and observed the older man through narrowed eyes. After a moment or so, Gibbs let out a huff of breath and looked up.

"What, DiNozzo!"

"Why is Ziva mad at me?" Gibbs rolled his eyes causing Tony to snort lightly. It was always funny to see the older man display emotion in such a teenage fashion.

"Well, I don't know, DiNozzo. Ya'think maybe it had something to do with your attendance on Friday?"

"If she'd seen me!" He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "I'm positive she doesn't know I was there!"

Gibbs' eyebrows rose a few notches. "You're sure, DiNozzo?"

"Yeah. She didn't even know I went through her stuff until McGee told her. I mean, I know I'm annoying, but I haven't been any worse than usual." _So why the hell is Ziva mad at me?_

"You try asking her?"

Tony stared at Gibbs, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Yeah, sure, I walked up to the angry ninja chick and said 'Hey, Z, what's up? Just wondering why you are mad, is all'" He used his best I'm-an-idiot voice, before melding back into scathing sarcasm. "Yeah, that'd go over just swell. Jeez, Gibbs. I'd be walking funny for a week."

His boss just snorted and shrugged. He didn't have any more ideas.

"Boss-"

"Not my problem, DiNozzo."

Tony was just going to suck it up and confront Ziva.

Wonderful.

Well, maybe tomorrow.

During lunch.

Or maybe after work?

_Nervous much?_

** * ** * ** * **

Ziva spent most of Wednesday morning in Abby's lab, letting the loud music drown out her thoughts as she helped organize and catalog the physical evidence from last week's case. She was actually grateful they had not gotten a new case this week. She doubted that she could work with Tony like this.

Not without causing him serious physical injury, that is. Gibbs would probably be angry if she broke his senior field agent.

It was nearly lunchtime when Abby finally turned off the music and hauled Ziva into her office, locking the door with the little remote thingy she liked to use.

Ziva glared balefully at the goth. She was not impressed.

"Okay, Ziva, I don't know what's going on with you and Tony, but it has got to stop. He doesn't even know what he did!" Ziva's eyes narrowed of their own accord.

"He knows _exactly_ what he did!" Ziva snarled, leaning forward against Abby's desk. The goth leaned back, glad the desk was between them.

"Okay, what did he do?" Abby tried to keep the nervousness from her voice, but she had never seen Ziva this mad before.

"Nothing!" Well, okay, he had done something, but not what he was supposed to. Therefore, going on a nice date, romancing and boozing and sleazing and whatever else he did could count as nothing. It had better have been _nothing_.

"Er, right." Abby coughed. "That makes a whole lot of sense. Why don't you tell Tony what he did, or, er, didn't do?"

"_Because."_ Ziva groused. How could she explain this to Abby? "You know that thing Tony does?"

"Annoy?" Abby seemed perplexed, but up for the challenge, as always.

"No, I mean that _other_ thing." The goth chewed on her bottom lip for a minute before answering brightly.

"Oh, you mean care!" She nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, I know that. What about it?"

"He stopped." Ziva had a hard time admitting this to Abby – well to anyone really – but Abby was her friend. She knew she could trust her with her secrets. She'd even told Abby about the talent-show. The goth would have been there, if she had not had a bowling tournament that same evening. She had, however, made Ziva promise to teach her how to belly-dance.

"Ziva?" The scientist was wearing her I'm-worried-about-your-sanity look. "You know, I don't think Tony can just stop caring, even if he wanted to." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "What made you think he did?"

"Argh! Abby, I do not _think_. I know." Abby motioned for her to continue. "He did not come."

"Where?"

Closing her eyes, Ziva turned around and leaned against the table, gripping the edge tightly with both hands.

_This is completely ridiculous, _she thought. And it was. She was angry at Tony and at herself and she knew why – she just did not know _why_. Why did it bother her so much that Tony did not care? If anyone had asked her how she would have felt before Friday, she would have claimed to be ecstatic that she would not have to worry about Tony going through her business all the time. She _should_ be happy to have her privacy back.

"You mean the talent show, don't you?" Abby inquired gently. Ziva just nodded – she did not trust herself to speak, afraid she might start yelling in her anger. "You think he doesn't care because he didn't find out about it?"

As always, Abby proved to be surprisingly perceptive.

"Did you never think that maybe you just out smarted Mr. Smartypants? I mean, come on, you were so careful, maybe you just didn't give him enough to work with?"

"No, he _always_ finds out. It does not matter how careful I am, he is like a moth to the light – always drawn towards secrets."

"Moth to the flame, Ziva. And, while I sometimes have my doubts, Tony _is_ human. He doesn't just automatically know everything you don't want him too. He has to work for it, just like you do." Abby moved around the table to face Ziva. "C'mon, I'm sure Tony still cares. I bet if you went up there right now and made a personal phone call at your desk, he wouldn't stop until he knew all the w's!"

Ziva smiled weakly. "Maybe you are right, Abby. I am over-reacting." Her smile turned grateful. "Thank you for listening, Abby."

With that, she left the lab. She could not stay in the basement all day.

Despite Abby's confidence in Tony's _caring _nature, she could not make herself believe it. Even if Tony _did_ still care, something had changed. He stood her up, and that made her angry.

She outright refused to believe that he had not figured out the secret to her Wednesday lunches – especially not after what McGee said.

Tony was still in the birdhouse.

** * ** * ** * **

Tony rubbed his arm and winced. Ugly bruises were already forming, courtesy of Ziva's rather unwelcome attention. He was doubly glad that they still hadn't gotten a case; Ziva was more angry and violent every hour.

Granted, she'd been in the basement most of the morning. Still, all he had to do was _look_ at her the wrong way, and he'd get hit. She may be small, but she certainly threw a good punch. He glanced over at her desk.

She looked up and growled.

"I can't take this anymore," he muttered under his breath. Louder, he said, "Hey, Boss, I'm gonna go see Abby … if she needs any, er, help."

He held his breath. He was half afraid his boss would throw him and Ziva in the elevator until they either worked it out, or she killed him.

"Don't forget the Caf-pow!" DiNozzo let his breath out in a relieved whoosh. Then again, he supposed Gibbs might be having a _little_ sympathy for him right now – God knows he's been on the wrong side of a woman's temper more than once, considering he has been divorced a grand total of three times.

And at least one of his marriages ended in violence – one of Ducky's favorite stories involves Gibbs' head, a nine-iron, and stitches.

Still, he hastily made his way to the elevator, just in case Gibbs decided to change his mind.

"Tony!" Abby greeted him enthusiastically as he entered her lab. Surprisingly, she had her music turned down to a dull roar today. He grinned just a little as the goth bounced over for a hug. If anyone could help him solve the Ziva Problem, it would be Abby.

In fact, judging by the megawatt silly grin on her face, she already knew something.

"Okay, Abbs, spill." Abby looked at him in mock surprise. "What did Ziva tell you?"

"Hey! I was gonna surprise you!" Abby pouted. "How'd you know."

Tony just raised his eyebrow in what he hoped was a Gibbs-like manner. She sighed. He handed her the Caf-pow and she perked up considerably.

"Oooo-kay. Anyway, you're right. I do know why Ziva is mad at you!" Abby's triumphant expression morphed into a grimace. "But you aren't going to like it. You know that thing you do?"

"Um, annoy?" Tony scratched his head – where was she going with this?

"No, the other thing!"

"Sean Connery impressions?"

Abby shook her head.

"Solve crimes?"

"No!" She gave an exasperated eye roll.

"I give up. What 'thing' do I do?"

"You care, Silly," she responded, as if it had been obvious all along.

"Ah."

Well, ok, yes, Tony did care. While most people never recognized that he did, it wasn't like a secret or anything. Still, what did _caring_ have to do with Ziva being angry?

"Well, it backfired."

"Pardon?" Tony's eyebrows rose to his hairline. _How does caring _backfire? Weren't people supposed to be _glad_ that you care? He shook his head. There was no way around it – someone was just going to have to spell the whole thing out for him. He was lucky Abby _cared_ enough to do it for him.

"Well…" Abby bit her lip as she tried to figure out the best way to approach the heart of the matter. She obviously sensed that Tony was going to need a lot of help. "What exactly do you know about Ziva's Wednesday Lunches?"

Right. He knew it had something to do with that blasted talent show. Damn. He'd already sworn to himself that that was the absolute _last_ time he would ever stick his nose in Ziva's business. He'd even been making the effort to back off during the last few days – not that he expected anyone to notice, what with Ziva's current antics.

"Ahhh….well." Tony fidgeted. He knew what ever was going to come next would be bad. "I kinda guessed that she was rehearsing for the talent show last Friday."

His nervous statement was met with a reproving glare.

"You knew." Despite what she had told Ziva earlier, Abby was unsurprised. "Did you go?"

"Well…maybe." The glare got stronger. "Okay, yes, I went! I mean, you know I don't like it when they keep secrets from me!" Abby opened her mouth to respond, but Tony held up his hand, effectively forestalling whatever judgment he was sure she had to offer. "But I swear Ziva didn't see me. I know she worked really hard to keep me from finding out – and, well, I thought it might be sensitive material, you know? And know that I know what it was, I can understand why she didn't want me to know – so I decided to do that thing that you say I should do more often."

"Show discretion?" Abby quirked an eyebrow – and Tony didn't blame her. It wasn't that he couldn't be discrete, or that he never was, but it _was_ pretty unusual.

"Yes. I decided not to say anything." Tony shrugged. "I thought I'd let Ziva win this one."

"Oh, Tony!" Abby bounced on her thick soled shoes and leaned forward for another hug. "I'm so proud of you!"

"Um, thanks." He gave an awkward little grin. No matter how many times it happened, he would never be comfortable with being praised for doing something nice. His father always told him that compassion and kindness were weaknesses that DiNozzo's didn't have. "So, why's Ziva mad at me?"

"Oh." Abby leaned back and grinned mischievously. "She's mad because you didn't go see her belly dance."

"What?!?"

Abby laughed at him.

The field agent groaned and lowered his head into his hands.

_Of all the things…_ Tony was pretty sure that he'd never had someone get mad at him for _not_ being a jerk – except for maybe his father. How did he get himself into this mess? Better question: How was he supposed to get himself _out_ of it?

He sighed and thought back to all the occasions where he had teased Ziva, trying to get her to tell him what the longer lunches were for. He couldn't remember her sending any mixed signals or even showing more than a slightly unusual reluctance to talk about the subject at all. He'd ask her an unwelcome question or two, she would brush him off. He'd ask a few more, and she would resort to threatening him with office supplies. If he went too far, Gibbs would always be there to deliver a warning slap to the back of his head.

And now she was mad that she got her way?

He looked up at Abby mournfully.

"I will never understand her."

Abby's amused giggles followed him all the way to the elevator.

** * ** * ** * **

**A/N:** Okay, there you go. One more chapter to go – the conflict! Thanks for reading, and don't forget to review!


	3. Chapter 3

Always Be there

** * ** * ** * **

Ziva sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that night. Susan glared at her gloomy movie partner. They were curled up on the older woman's couch, watching the new Die Hard movie – which, so far, hadn't even received a single critique from the Mossad Officer. Susan was tempted to start yelling corrections at the screen herself, just in attempt to create an illusion of normalcy.

Truth was, Ziva had been inconsolable since the talent show exactly one week ago. Sure, the woman had been crankier than a cat in a bathtub, but Susan had easily picked up on the more subtle broken heart vibes that had just been _rolling_ off the Israeli.

Snnnnft.

The teenager glanced to her left. Her eyes widened incredulously. Ziva was snuffling into her tissue, staring blankly at the screen as Bruce Willis launched a car at a helicopter.

This had to end now.

If Ziva wasn't going to talk to Tony, she would do it herself. This was just ridiculous.

_Amazing! How is it that the most cool and collected adults, who regularly laugh at our love sick antics, can be reduced to such quivering, trembling states?_

"Ziva, I'm gonna borrow your car. I'll bring back pizza – I doubt they'll deliver here after Wednesday's fiasco." Ziva looked up sharply, glaring heatedly. Susan lifted her hands defensively. "Which I'm not going to mention – ever, I swear! But I want pizza."

After another long moment of glaring, Ziva muttered something crankily about Canadian bacon and pineapples. Susan grabbed up her jacket and swept out of the house, swiping Ziva's Motorola along with the keys.

Biting her lip hopefully, she scrolled through the address book. There were remarkably few entries. Then again, that made sense. Susan didn't know a lot about Ziva's life before she came to America, but she did know that the woman was into some stuff that was considered _classified._ Susan had witnessed firsthand how carefully paranoid the ex-secret agent/_spy_ (Ziva had never admitted to that, but Susan was confident in her guess) could be, even in the safety of her own home. She probably had most of the important, and even non-important, numbers memorized. Luckily, Anthony DiNozzo's number didn't count.

It was there, fourth on the list, along with a picture, e-mail address, home phone number, and – here she squealed, just a little – his physical address.

The tires of the Mini-cooper squealed as she rounded a corner – after all, Ziva _had_ taught her how to drive "properly".

** * ** * ** * **

Tony glanced at his phone, again.

He'd spent most of this past week, after Abby's revelation, trying to corner Ziva somewhere they could talk.

She had been avoiding him like the plague. Okay, well maybe not _entirely_. She would creep up on him and deliver some of the nastiest little comments she could think of and then flit away. She was actually quite good at it – Tony liked to think that she'd learned a trick or two from him, even though he wasn't happy to be on the receiving end of his own jokes.

No, a personal phone call from him would do absolutely no good.

So, he was trying to distract himself – by cooking.

He was actually quite good. When he was eight, his father had gone through a food phase – Tony didn't really know what else to call it. Oh, the elder DiNozzo was probably just trying to get on the good side of some powerful businessman who happened to be a connoisseur of fine cuisine. Whatever the reason, he'd seen fit to higher _three_ chefs for his personal kitchen.

Tony had spent a great deal of time there with the three lively souls. Of course, his father had eventually found out, and promptly fired the lot of them, but not before Tony had learned to love the art of cooking. Still, to this day, he found cooking to be a very relaxing exercise for him.

Even so, dicing veggies couldn't keep his mind from wandering completely.

Ziva.

He'd done a lot of thinking this week, and while he understood the problem better, he felt worse about the whole situation. He knew why Ziva was acting the way she was.

He also understood Gibbs' sad 'look' that night he'd asked Tony if he was going to the talent show, and now his reluctance to counsel Tony about the present situation.

Ziva liked Tony _that_ way.

Normally, Tony would be elated at this discovery.

But she wasn't ready for a relationship. She couldn't even admit to herself that she liked Tony as more than a colleague. Hell, she wouldn't even admit that he was any more than an acute annoyance at work!

Tony sighed and set down his knife, leaning against the counter. Tony had always been attracted to Ziva – even if he had resented her at first, for being Kate's replacement. Over the years, however, he'd grown to respect and care about her.

Just as with Kate however, Tony had abided by Gibbs' rule number 12 – no dating coworkers. It wasn't really just because it was Gibbs rule – Tony was afraid he'd screw it up. Screwing up a relationship with a teammate – with Ziva – wouldn't just be disastrous for him, personally. A failed relationship with Ziva would ruin the team – a team that Tony considered his surrogate family.

Tony understood the team dynamic a bit better than the others, maybe even as well as Gibbs did. The 'team' meant something different to each member. To Tony, it was the family he never had, with Gibbs as the father figure, Ducky as the caring uncle, McGee and Palmer the geeky cousins that were almost closer than brothers, and Abby and Ziva the sisters he would do anything for – even ignore the way his heart ached around one of them.

For Ziva, however, it was different. The team was her sanctuary. The Mossad Officer _had_ a family – albeit, a broken one – but one that she had loved and _fit_ in, at one time. In Tony's opinion it wasn't a good one, but it was her _family_ nonetheless. She hadn't let go of it the way Tony had let go of his. He knew that Ziva had never before experienced the trust and support she got from the team.

Slowly, she was learning how to let her guard down; she was learning how to _feel_ again. _Apparently_, he thought dryly, _she has rediscovered that cruel little muscle that beats in her chest._ Yes, Ziva had definitely felt a little flutter in her heart.

And now she was running around like a headless chicken because she didn't know what to do about it.

Tony sighed again and returned to chopping his carrots. Ziva could face down countless gory odds, but when faced with a new crush she began to slowly shut down again, becoming more like the untouchable, cold assassin she had been when he first met her. Tony knew that he was going to have to prove to Ziva that he was trustworthy in this, too.

Sure, she trusted him to have her back in sticky situations; she trusted him with her life. Now he had to convince her to trust him with her heart.

That meant that he needed to help her work through her amorous feelings. He couldn't be anything more than a brother to her, now.

He ignored the way his heart grew heavy at this resolution, instead taking his anger out on the poor, defenseless carrots.

Wearily, he set his knife aside again when a knock sounded at his door. Maybe Gibbs had decided to come to dinner after all – but, no, Gibbs never knocked.

Curious, Tony peered through the peek-hole. A flustered blonde teenager stared right back at him. He scowled to himself when he recognized her – one of Ziva's dancers.

Super.

** * ** * ** * **

Susan stared at the door impatiently.

_1, 2, 3, 4…_

She banged on the stained wood with her fist, making the keys she clutched in the other hand jingle with her vehemence.

The door opened abruptly.

"Geez, you wanna get the neighbors after me?"

DiNozzo stuck a touseled head out into the hallway. She could just make out the bulky gray Ohio State sweatshirt he was wearing. She immediately noted that the agent was much cuter than the pic on Ziva's phone. Ziva certainly had good taste, looks wise. _Snap out of it, Suzie_, she told herself. She was not here to ogle Ziva's crush. No – she was here to find a cure for Ziva's explosive moods.

"Come on in," DiNozzo sighed resignedly. He stepped back, opening the door wider. "You're here about Ziva." It wasn't a question.

"How did-"

"You have her keys." He raised an eyebrow. "Does she keep my address in her phone?"

And Ziva said he wasn't that good at his job.

"Tony, I'm Ziva's neighbor, Susan." She stuck out her hand, shaking his firmly. "Ziva's angry at something you didn't do."

Susan watched his reaction carefully. Honestly, she expected him to take offense, to start spluttering some juvenile comment about unfairness. She was pleasantly surprised when he nodded glumly.

"First time she's gotten mad at me for _not_ being a jerk." Gesturing for her to follow, he walked into a neat, well decorated living room and sat at the far end of an expensive looking leather couch. "You think she'll ever talk to me about it?"

"Ah, dude," Susan plopped down next to him. "No. But she needs to – she's getting worse."

"Yeah. " He leaned back into the overstuffed cushions. "She must be really bad."

Susan let out a short bark of laughter. That was an understatement if she ever heard one. By the grimace on Tony's face, she could tell he caught it too.

"Dude, you have no idea. I left when she started _snuffling_" She filled that one word with as much exasperation as she could muster. Even then it wasn't enough. "She likes you and – heaven help her – she doesn't know what to do with herself."

Again, Susan watched his reaction closely. Again, she was pleasantly surprised.

He sighed despondently, a knowing look on his face.

"Ziva hasn't had a very – er, _safe_ life. She doesn't know how to trust other people with her emotions – she's been burned too many times, especially by people she should have been able to trust." He huffed angrily, running his hands through his hair. "I know I'm not really the best person to be criticizing Ziva for this – hell, I'm probably worse than she is!" He winced at the swear word, but didn't apologize. "I understand her problem – I just don't know what to do about it!"

She leaned back while he spoke. Susan was definitely impressed. And flattered, really, that he would talk to her, practically a stranger, about his problems. As if he had read her thoughts, he continued.

"You're Ziva's friend – you've been helping her as much as she's been helping you." He held up a hand to keep her from interrupting. _How had he known about her? _"She started acting funny – angry like – a few months ago, and I decided to check it out. You two are good for each other."

Blinking, Susan tried to come up with something intelligent to say. This man was such a far cry from the one that Ziva had complained about time and time again. Actually, he reminded her of her dad – she tried not to get teary eyed at this thought – charming and funny and a complete ham, but smart and loyal and caring, too.

Either Ziva had goofed, or Tony was a very good actor.

Susan fiddled with Ziva's keys, conscious of DiNozzo's scrutinizing gaze. The silence was getting awkward – honestly, what did she think she was doing? She'd just barged in on her neighbor's coworker at eight o'clock on a Friday evening. With all the stories Ziva had told her about this particular coworker, she was lucky he was even home, especially _alone_.

But then, he hadn't said or done anything yet that actually coincided with Ziva's description of him. Even his apartment was different – neat, organized, tasteful. Nothing she would have expected from the immature skirt chaser that Ziva talked about. How could Ziva have missed this? _Excellent actor, then. But why?_

"You know, you aren't exactly what I expected." Susan hoped that leading statement would get her some answers.

The man on the other end of the couch snorted with amusement.

"Yeah, I guess not." He paused, as if there was something he wanted to add, but couldn't. He cleared his throat. "Sorry. You want something to drink, or, er…"

"No, I have to get back soon. I left her watching the new Die Hard. She thinks I'm out for pizza." Okay, so what exactly did she think she would accomplish by coming here?

"Oh, right." Tony nodded sharply. "You should call the order in from here, Joseppi's will deliver inside twenty minutes."

** * ** * **

While the girl was ordering pizza, using the menu he kept by the phone, Tony went into the kitchen to check on his pasta. Overcooked. Lovely – he might end up ordering pizza himself. That Hawaiian Pizza she'd ordered (presumably because it was Ziva's favorite) sounded pretty good.

He liked Susan. He hadn't ever met her – really, he hadn't given her a whole lot of thought since he'd 'discovered' that Ziva had been mentoring a recently orphaned young girl. Actually, he hadn't put two and two together until after the girl started talking. Her obvious concern for Ziva coupled with that familiar _look_ that he'd seen far too many times in his career clued him in. Plus, of course, the handy 'neighbor' detail.

The few times Tony had 'overheard' one of Ziva's conversations with the girl, he could tell that Ziva connected with this girl. There was always a fierce protectiveness in her tone. Tony had wondered if Susan wasn't kind of a surrogate sister for her – a stand in for Talia. Not that Ziva would ever think of it that way.

But still.

The 'relationship' he'd observed – well, okay, more like _eavesdropped_ – between the two prompted him to be honest with her, about Ziva anyway. It was apparent by Susan's knowledge of the 'situation' that Ziva trusted her – and that meant a lot.

So he was going to be honest with her – maybe she could help. After all, he didn't mean to sound desperate, but she was the only one left. He'd tried Abby and Gibbs and McGee. Ducky had flat refused to get involved in their "lovers' quarrel". Poor Jimmy had run off before Tony could even ask – a reaction that he completely understood.

So, no one left.

Except Susan. He heard someone moving quietly behind him.

"I don't think I'd eat that, if I were you."

_Speak of the devil. _She was eyeing his attempt at angel hair pasta over his shoulder.

"Hey it's not that bad. Besides, I was a little distracted!" He tried to defend the gooey glob. Really, though, he agreed with her. Pizza it was.

"Riiight." Abruptly, she turned from the pot of noodles that were still bubbling in a resentful, sluggish manner. "I want to know what you plan to do about Ziva."

Making a face, he combed his fingers through his already untidy hair. He'd actually prefer she attacked his cooking skills again.

"I don't _know_! He-e, er, _shucks_" Susan rolled her eyes. "If I'd known _discretion_ was going to cause me this much trouble, I would have been in the first row, hooting and hollering like she obviously expected me to!"

Susan gave him a look and suddenly Tony had this not so good feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"You. Knew."

It wasn't a question.

"Er…"

"Did you go?"

Ziva had definitely been teaching this girl some tricks. She was as scary as an Angry Abby, which was almost as scary as Angy Ziva. Not quite as scary as Angy Gibbs – but then what was?

"Um, maybe." She glared. "Okay, yes, I went! I don't like it when they keep secrets. I thought maybe she was into – erm." He had been about to say another operation, like the one Jenny had him doing, but remembered who he was talking to. "I thought she might need help with something. Turns out she didn't." He sighed a little. Back to the backfired caring bit. "She worked so hard to keep me from finding out."

Susan let out a startled laugh. Tony could practically see her thoughts - _Ziva, Ziva, Ziva. How _do_ you make these messes?_

At least she wasn't blaming him.

"So you didn't say anything."

"Lady, I didn't even take an incriminating photo!" It had been tempting, but he hadn't. It would have been awful funny to use them as the teams' screen savers. He wasn't actually that good with computers, but Abby knew everyone's passwords by heart.

"Hmmm." Susan's eyes slid halfway shut in thought. She was scheming… he could sense it. "I do."

Tony blinked.

"You do _what_?"

"Have an incriminating photo." She paused a minute. "And Ziva's costume."

Tony grinned.

If Ziva wanted to be angry at him for _not_ being a jerk, fine!

He'd show her jerkiness. He happened to be King of Jerks.

Susan smiled sweetly.

"I can get them to you before Monday." She straightened from where she'd been leaning against the kitchen counter. "But, for now, I should get back to Ziva."

"You think she'll suspect?" Susan rolled her eyes.

"She was _snuffling_ over a _Die Hard_ film when I left. I doubt she even really noticed I was gone."

"Ah." Good point. He reminded himself that Ziva was probably a lot worse at home than she let show at work. Well, come Monday, he'd fix this all up.

After saying good bye to Susan, and ordering his own pizza (Susan had opted to pick hers up on her way back, so it wouldn't get cold) Tony turned his mind to the Ziva problem.

What _should_ he do with such a lovely photo?

The screen saver was a good idea, but one he'd used before.

He needed something over the top. Something that he might possibly have spent a whole week planning… waiting for her to let her guard down.

Absent mindedly, he took a large bite of his pizza.

He was still scheming when he crawled into bed hours later.

Whatever he came up with was gonna be _good._

** * ** * ** * **

**A/N:** Okay, really, really sorry I haven't posted anything in a while...and also that this will have one more chapter (even though I promised there would only be three). I've been suffering from a rather persistent case of writer's block, so I hope this chapter (and the next, soon to be posted, I promise) doesn't seem to forced. Thank you for reading (and for your patience) and please, please review (will provide much needed motivation for me, just like all your other great reviews).


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Okay, here you go, last chapter! Yay! Anywho, apologies in advance – this turned out a little more sappy and semi-depressing than it should have. Still, please read, enjoy, and review! ;)

** * ** * ** * **

Ziva was puffy eyed and grumpy when she walked into work Monday morning.

She'd spent most of her weekend either with Susan or in the local gym, working out her frustrations on several punching bags (no one had volunteered to spar with her). After hours, she had jogged around her neighborhood, knowing that she would never get to sleep if she was not exhausted.

Without really paying attention to her surroundings, she plunked down at her desk. Pulling open her top drawer, she hunted around for her letter opener and a few erasers to maul.

Only she could not find the letter opener.

Instead she pulled out a cheap gold miniature scimitar. Actually, it was a curved Turkish blade – like the ceremonial ones she had used in the belly dancing act.

She stared at it for a long moment.

"What 'cha got there, Ziva?"

Ziva suppressed a start – Tony had actually _successfully_ snuck up on her. She must be worse than she thought. Grumbling, she looked up at his –_leer?_ She blinked in confusion until she remembered that she was angry at him.

Scowling, she brandished the mini sword at him, threatening with her eyes.

"Hey, watch it!" He held his hands up in surrender, slowly backing away. "I'm going, I'm going."

Looking back down at the mysterious mock weapon, she missed his smug grin.

** * ** * ** * **

Ziva was furious with _someone_ and even more furious because she did not know _who_ that someone was.

All day it had been the same, starting with that stupid Turkish sword. Little reminders, little hints had followed her around every where she went. No matter _where_ she went.

Besides the sword, there had been several of the familiar green flyers tucked into her manila folders. One blue construction paper first place ribbon had cheerfully stared back at her when she had looked for the _original_ flyer.

McGee had arrived later and attracted her attention with a yelp. Quickly, knowing what she would find, she rushed over to his desk. Sure enough, the background on his monitor was of her in her belly dancing costume. Growling, she stared at McGee as he feverishly removed the picture and swore his innocence.

After a few strange looks from the other men working in the bullpen, Ziva had gone down to the men's locker room to find several enlarged photo's of her in her dance costume hanging on the door and over the sinks. She had torn them down only to find that whatever idiot had posted them had triple layered them. She suspected that there were more carefully hidden, but she was too angry to search them all out.

In an effort to escape the madness, she went to Abby's lab to find her listening to the _exact_ same sound track she and Susan had picked out for the dance. Abby had insisted that _someone_ had just left it in her lab, without a note or anything else. There were not even any fingerprints.

Ducky's lab was strung with green, gold, and orange Turkish décor – matching the colors from her outfit perfectly. She believed Ducky when he said he hadn't anything to do with it. In fact, he had seemed rather angry about it himself – nobody messed with _his_ sterile lab and got away with it.

The problem was she did not know _who_ to blame. The whole thing smelt like Tony, but she was positive that he had not gone to the talent show. She had not seen him in the audience, and she had even checked the parking lot for his car. She _knew_ he had not been there.

There was no way he could have gotten those pictures of her –she could tell they _had_ been taken at the talent show, and not during a rehearsal – nor would he have been able to get his hands on that soundtrack.

Besides, no one could pretend to be clueless _that_ convincingly. Tony had seemed genuinely surprised when he showed up at work, but quickly adjusted. He certainly got in his fair share of lewd jokes. A couple of times, while threatening him with paperclips, she almost forgot that she was angry with him, not just irritated because he was being a jerk. She saved her real fury for whoever had the gumption to tease her like this.

Then she would remember that it should have been _him_, Tony – the only person that could actually get away with all this - that she was furious at, and not some nameless somebody.

As far as pranks go, this one was pretty impressive. But there was just no way Tony could have waited a week to pull it off, even if he _had_ somehow managed to get hold of the necessary 'items'.

Huffing in frustration, she climbed out of her Mini Cooper and marched up the driveway.

Folded neatly on her doormat was her dancing costume, obviously recently dry cleaned, with an extra scarf and a white envelope.

Ignoring the rest, Ziva tore into the envelope, revealing a frustrating cryptic message. Her frustration mounted when she realized that the letters had been clipped from some newspaper.

Someone was trying to be clever.

With an evil grin she leaned forward and sniffed the paper.

Cologne.

_Tony's _cologne.

She stared at the message a little longer.

"_Be careful what you wish for."_

Tony. Had. Tricked. Her.

He had pranked her.

He had teased her.

And now he was _mocking_ her.

She snapped.

Without conscious thought, she turned around stalked angrily to her car. Tony was a corpse.

Eight near wrecks later, Ziva pulled up to _his_ apartment building. Glaring angrily at the front doors, she tried to decide her plan of action. She either needed a code, or someone had to buzz her in. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a young lady struggling with a few bags of groceries. Smiling predatorily, she went over to help.

And then she was in.

** * ** * ** * **

Tony was pacing.

Okay, fine. He was pacing _nervously_.

Things had gone well at work today. Ziva let herself fall into their old pattern of banter more than once. She never even suspected him, and Abby and Jimmy had played their parts superbly. Susan had even called him a few minutes ago to warn him that Ziva was on her way, as planned.

_That_'s when he got nervous. Susan had used the word "seething" and the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. The phrase "If you play with fire…" was running around in his head.

What the hell was he supposed to do when Ziva got there?

He glanced at the door – he didn't expect her to buzz in – in anticipation. He hoped she'd try the handle before kicking the door in; he'd left it unlocked just for her.

Breathing deeply to calm himself, he ran through The Plan again. Impress Ziva with elaborate plot, demonstrating extreme noisiness, obsession, and a juvenile sense of humor. Leave subtle clue (along with semi-expensive gift that she would appreciate later) that would lead her here.

Here he faltered, but forced himself to continue.

Confront "seething" ninja-chick, proving that he hadn't changed and didn't plan to, and that he _did_ care, and always would – all without letting his 'cheery idiot' façade slip.

_Much_ easier said than done.

A loud thump came from the hallway and he broke out in a cold sweat.

_I'm so screwed!_

** * ** * ** * **

Ziva kicked the wall next to Tony's door, trying to decide if she felt like picking the lock, or if she just wanted to kick it down.

She had just decided on the latter action when the door opened on its own.

"Hey, Ziva!" So, not on its own. Tony even had the audacity to smile. "What a surprise!"

The Israeli wasted no time on pleasantries. Jabbing her finger into his chest, she forced him backwards, into his apartment.

"You – you PIG!" Anger caused her to stumble over her words. She was spluttering in indignation – and, curse him, Tony was smiling like she had complemented his tie. "You _tricked _me!"

"Now, Ziva" Tony casually batted away her offending digit and rubbed at his chest. "Did you really expect any less from me?"

She stuttered to a stop.

Well she _had_ actually expected less from him. She had thought that he had decided she was not worth the effort.

He raised an eyebrow and tutted at her.

"How long have you known me?" He laughed at her expression. "I mean, come _on_. Belly dancing! You didn't _honestly_ think I'd leave that alone." Privately, Tony thought to himself that he'd been about to, but then this whole stupid mess happened and it was all Ziva's fault. He was still shaking in his boots, but he didn't think Ziva noticed. "Ziva, I _always_ find out. All of your secrets." He leered at her.

Ziva's rage slowly melted away when he echoed the thought she had repeated over and over to herself since last Friday. He _always_ finds out. Always.

And she had doubted him. Now _she_ felt like the bad guy. Did he ever doubt _her_?

Or did he always trust that, threaten though she did, she would never hurt him like she would have her Mossad partners? Did he trust that she would never deliberately cause him harm or set him up like she sometimes had done to others in Israel?

Looking at him, she knew. She knew that he trusted her – if he had known her in Israel, he would probably be pointing his gun at her.

He trusted her to always have his back. He trusted her to never hurt him. He trusted her tease McGee with him. To pick out gifts for Abby together. To disobey Gibbs when necessary. To laugh at his stupid jokes.

He was smiling softly. She felt confusion _again._

Ziva had never seen that smile before. This one was not crass or cheerful or mocking or charming. It was _gentle_. She did not even bother to hide her surprise.

Since when is Tony gentle?

"Ziva" He sighed and, with sudden seriousness, continued, "You should know I'll always be there." He paused, running his fingers through his hair in a gesture she had come to associate with nervousness. "Gibbs. Abby. McGee. Ducky. Hell, even Palmer. We'll always be there, doing what we do best."

She just stood there, nodding dumbly. Where the hell was _her_ Tony, the class joker?

Suddenly he was normal again, complete with a bright (fake?) smile and boyish exuberance.

"You really should have called first you know. I have a date in –" he paused to glance at his watch "exactly seven minutes."

He looked at her pointedly when she did not move.

"It would be really awkward if you were still here."

"Tony – " suddenly, she found herself being propelled towards the door.

"You should go bug McGeek. Not like he'd have a date. You might even be lucky enough to interrupt one of his 'writing' sessions. If you do, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid to Agent Tommy."

With one final shove she was out into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind her.

He had known all along.

By the end of the week, even though she _had_ kept telling herself that he knew, she had decided that he did not care anymore.

He had found out, but instead of going to the talent show he had gone out with some twenty year old blonde hussy.

But she was wrong.

He _had_ gone.

He _did_ care.

But he had tricked her.

Ziva's anger came surging back. Tony had posted _pictures_ of her in the men's locker room! He had somehow gotten into her home, gone through her stuff, and found her costume _and_ the soundtrack.

She turned back to his door and grinned evilly.

Tomorrow, Tony was a corpse.

But, that was exactly how it was supposed to be.

** * ** * ** * **

Tony shut the door firmly before slumping against it.

That had gone much, _much_ better than he'd ever dreamed it might. The Mossad officer had been shocked silly when he'd let his mask drop for that one instance – a mistake?

No. He saw it, just then, when Ziva stared at him with her mouth open in astonishment. Ziva _knew_ that he was being genuine with her, that he meant what he said, that he – they, the whole team – wouldn't _ever _let her down. And maybe, just maybe, she realized that Tony isn't exactly as stupid as he acts.

Of course, Ziva was still going to kill him.

Nervous again, Tony crossed over to the pantry, checking his stock of 'Ziva Pacifiers'. He still had a few bars of that special dark chocolate that she likes and a few coupons to the expensive Sushi bar that she only treated herself to once a month.

He was out of knick knacks, though. _Hmm. Flowers and a new, pointy letter opener._

Yeah, it might take Ziva a little longer than usual to get over being mad at him, but after a full week of being on her double-shit-black list, 'mad' was going to be like heaven. Wincing, he recalled how 'tape-happy' he'd gotten with a few of the posters in the locker room. And three layers each.

_Maybe a bottle of perfume, too._

Well, at least things were normal-ish again.

Closing the pantry door, he walked over to the coat closet and pulled out a light jacket. He'd just go over to the store and pick up the rest of the necessary 'pacifiers' for operation 'Get back on Ziva's Good Side'. He chuckled when he realized it had been exactly seven minutes since he'd shoved Ziva out the door.

Time for his date.

He sighed gustily. The next 'date' he planned would be with the girl of his dreams.

Just as soon as Ziva was ready.

** * ** * ** * **

**A/N:** Okay, so this really didn't turn out like I had planned. I'm not altogether pleased with it – maybe TIVA just isn't my thing. Still, I would welcome any advice, constructive criticism, or other feedback. Thanks to those of you that have been reading – and for the really great reviews!


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